


Reservation

by doctorate_in_realology



Series: Overwatch One-Offs [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, One Shot Collection, Pharah can't catch a fucking break, Post-Fall of Overwatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 20:41:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8682676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorate_in_realology/pseuds/doctorate_in_realology
Summary: Fareeha has a surprise in store for Angela, but before she can spring it, Winston throws something of a wrench in the gears. And then Mei does... And then Torbjörn does.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been mulling around this idea for a while but until recently didn't know who to make it about. Special thanks to Mizu7 for helping me decide! She's super cool and is exponentially more talented than I am, so stop reading my garbage and check her out! I'll post the link to her page in the notes below. (I heartily recommend "Coexisting", "In A Perfect World", and "Fly On The Wall", and definitely give her new in-progress project "Claws That Snatch" a lil gander 'cause hot diggity damn it's good) (Also hey if you want to give my other stuff a peek too then I MEAN HEY I'D BE COOL WITH THAT)

Fareeha took purposeful, excited strides through the halls of the Watchpoint, towards the med bay. She silently hoped that she wouldn’t run in to any of her cohorts along the way, for the sole purpose of not wanting to have to explain the proud, absurdly wide grin she wore and couldn’t for the life of her seem to mollify.

Through a series of string-pulling, favour-calling, and what was most assuredly a stroke of blind luck, she’d acquired a reservation for two at one of London’s highest-of-high-class dining establishments. It had been a maddening undertaking, being that the place was booked for what seemed like eons.

She was actually one of the luckier ones though, she thought. Imagine the lengths Jesse would have to go to if he were doing something of the same variety; the man had a price on his head that no bounty hunter worth their salt would even think to scoff at. Or Amélie, hoping to do something for Lena! Talon had agents lurking in every crevice, it sometimes felt, not to mention that whenever she went out on an innocent excursion, all she received were judgmental scowls and looks of pity at the cyanotic pigment of her skin. Seldom was the woman ever _not_ the epicentre of ill attention. Not that Amélie cared in the slightest—“Let them gawk,” Fareeha had once heard her say.

Fareeha, on the other hand, had an alibi; the guise of having left Helix Security to become a freelance military contractor—a relatively normal path to travel, given who she was. Her public presence was far less volatile.

Lucky, because if she were the wearer of her friends’ boots instead of her own, the night might run the risk of being sullied by over-excited reporters, government-sanctioned security officers, or even assassins, thus tossing a wrench in the gears of a months-long plan.

With that in mind, she was never one to sing her own praises, but damned if she weren’t going to allow herself even a modicum of self-appreciation for what she’d accomplished.

Not that she’d be able to brag about it to any more than the thirteen others occupying the base with her, nor did she really want to, but it really was—or so it felt, at least—a feat of tremendous proportion.

And of tremendous reward; a night or so of leisure and diversion from a long-running streak of operations spanning the entire globe.

That, and the look on Angela’s face when she got to tell her.

She entered the med bay, Angela greeting her with a brief but warming smile.

“Good afternoon, Fareeha.”

“To you as well, Doctor Ziegler.”

With that, Angela tore her gaze from the slew of papers and devices she’d been tending to for the past two—three—hours.

“Something’s got you excited.”

Fareeha chuckled. “That easy to tell?”

“You make it rather easy, what with that grin on your face,” Angela said, returning a smile of her own that mirrored it.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Uh oh.”

Angela swivelled in her chair, her eyes following Fareeha until she sat across from her, clearly taking efforts not to start bouncing in her seat.

“As you know,” Fareeha began, “it’s pretty difficult for a lot of us to go out into the world as just normal people. Jesse’s too anachronistic, Lena’s too gregarious, Reinhardt’s too big, and we’ve _all_ a past with Overwatch. Makes it hard for us to stay out of the public eye.”

Angela sat quietly, wondering at how her cheeks hadn’t cracked from smiling yet. If Fareeha Amari, one of the most composed, pertinent and stoic people she’d ever known, was dancing around the point of something with a grin so wide it threatened to bisect her entire head, then something _must_ have been good. It was downright adorable.

“Which is why,” Fareeha went on, “I think you might have a keen appreciation for what my surprise is. I hope you will, at least.”

Part of Angela wanted her to just get to the point, and another part wanted to watch her ramble on for hours.

“So what’s the surprise?” Angela asked, reluctantly embracing the former.

Fareeha smiled wider, somehow. “You and I are going to be having dinner tonight at—”

The door to the med bay whipped open, ushering in an excited and panting Winston, the glasses on the bridge of his nose crooked and his hair mussed.

“Angela!” he shouted.

 _Dammit, Winston,_ Fareeha thought.

“Yes, Winston?” Angela answered, whirling around in her chair. “Is everything alright?”

“Better! I’ve figured out how I’m going to maintain an increased drift velocity of the arc streams of my Tesla Cannon!”

Angela shot from her seat. “Really? How?”

Winston dumped the device in question on an empty table with a _thunk_. He turned it onto its side, so that the bottom of it faced outwards towards them.

“I’m going to attach a heat sink along the bottom of the firing mechanism. It will collect and vent the thermal build-up distributed by the arc energy, keeping the conduction coils at an overall cooler temperature.”

“And the electrons will be kinetically less active because of the temperature,” Angela continued for him. “They will take longer to reach the positive side of the E-field—”

“Thereby increasing the drift velocity!” They both concluded.

“Excellent thinking, Winston!”

“As soon as I thought of it, I rushed right over. I just can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner, it seems so obvious now!”

“It does, doesn’t it?” she remarked.

She cocked her head slightly, trying to beckon forth a memory. What was she talking about before Winston came barrelling in?

How could she forget—she was in the midst of conversation with a very anxious Fareeha, whom she turned to find eyeing her with a coy grin and raised eyebrows. She burst into laughter.

“Fareeha, I’m sorry, you were just about to tell me what your surprise was,” she said, placing her hands on Fareeha’s shoulders.

“You two can finish up if you like, I don’t mind waiting a little while longer,” Fareeha assured with a smile. She wanted there to be no distractions, wanted everything to be just right.

“Are you sure?”

“Go ahead, I’ll tell you all about it once you’re done.”

What a mistake _that_ had been.

She had nobody but herself to blame, really—the two of them would go on for days if left to their own devices. It should have come as no small surprise that she was still sitting there, waiting for them to finish, nearly an hour and fifteen minutes later.

“Should we call Mei?” Angela suggested. “She would have invaluable input.”

“Ah, good idea,” Winston concurred.

Fareeha almost groaned aloud. An hour and thirty-five minutes later.

Mei had a hand curled around her chin in thought. “If you made the heat sink out of a thermally diffusive metal—a copper-aluminum hybrid, maybe—that would heighten its capabilities significantly.”

“An excellent idea, but that still leaves the issue of how cumbersome the heat sink would have to be in order to compensate for the thermal intake,” Angela said.

_Two hours later._

“Let’s call Torbjörn.”

Two hours and _twenty minutes later._

“No, no, you don’t want a heat sink,” Torbjörn said for him, “what _you_ want is for the conduction coils themselves to be made out of something thermally diffusive. What’re they made of now?”

“Composite tungsten,” Winston replied.

Torbjörn shook his head. “Tsk tsk tsk.”

“Would you be able to make the coils for me?”

Torbjörn looked to Mei and Angela. “‘Can I make the coils for ‘im’, he says. ‘Course I can! I’ll hop to it right away, ol’ chum.” He looked between the three of them, his eyes narrowing in scrutiny. “Er, how long’s Fareeha been sleepin’ there?”

Angela’s head shot up, and she whipped around. Fareeha was fast asleep, arms folded and head hung down, her chin to her chest. She had _completely_ forgotten she was there.

Angela went to wake her with all the caution of somebody approaching a sleeping lion. She gently shook her shoulder.

“Fareeha?”

Fareeha gently drifted into consciousness. “Hm?”

Her eyes widened in a fraction of a second, and her hands snapped to Angela’s face just as fast. “Are you done? You’re done, right? Please tell me you’re done.”

Angela laughed, taking Fareeha’s hands in hers. “Yes, we just finished getting everything squared away, I think.”

“Oh, thank _god._ ” Fareeha’s hands dropped from Angela’s face, and her head fell back against the chair with similar liveliness. She looked back up, allowing a relieved smile to play across her features. “I made a reservation for the two of us for dinner tonight. At Ciampanelli’s.”

Angela’s expression went agape, and seemed to keep going and going.

“Shut _up!”_

“I’m serious. Took _months_.”

Angela nearly shrieked. She kissed Fareeha as sweetly and as earnestly as she could.

They drew apart smiling. “We should start getting ready now, it’s in a few hours.”

Winston spoke up from beyond Fareeha’s vision. “Angela, do you think we should—”

“Ah!” Fareeha interjected, jabbing a finger at him as she stood. “Not. Another. Word.”

“I was just wondering if—”

She stabbed a finger through the air again. “ _Ah!_ ”

Mei tentatively spoke up. “All we need to know is—”

_“Mm!”_

“Fareeha, we’re just thinkin’ that—”

She silenced Torbjörn with the same readiness as the others, this time with a glare.

“You had her for two and a half hours. She’s _mine_ now.”

Angela was giggling as Fareeha led her out of the lab by her hand. She would have been dragging her, if she’d walked any faster.

**Author's Note:**

> [Here's the link to Mizu's page](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizu7/pseuds/Mizu7)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> And here are the links so some of her stuff that I recommend the hecking poo out of:
> 
>  
> 
> [In A Perfect World (AU wherein Amélie never became Widowmaker and is a badass Overwatch sniper)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8082655)
> 
>  
> 
> [Coexisting (Modern AU featuring Gabe and Amélie as roommates](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7841293/chapters/17902555)
> 
>  
> 
> [Fly On The Wall series (FAIR WARNING THIS WILL FUCK YOU UP BEYOND COMPREHENSION, MAY GOD HAVE MERCY ON YOU BECAUSE MIZU SURE AS FUCK WON'T GIVE IT TO YOU)](http://archiveofourown.org/series/483551)
> 
>  
> 
> [Claws That Snatch (She's updating this currently, is a supernatural AU, IS REALLY GOOD)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8430589/chapters/19314955)


End file.
